


Coup de coeur

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-22
Updated: 2008-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Coup d'état</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coup de coeur

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
> 
> AN: Coup de coeur = Hit to the heart. an old habit; taking an episode and rewriting it to promote my ships.. I usually keep the 'writing' in my own mind cause I'm too lazy to actually write plot...
> 
> lol, this should be known as a companion piece for [The Empty one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/57676).. except that's a different fandom ;) -hey, angst is a popular topic in all 'doms

When the unscheduled offworld activation came through, Elizabeth was there to listen as Dr. Lindsay's panicked voice spoke the words 'Colonel Sheppard' and 'explosion'.

  
"Drop the shield. Dr. Lindsay, come through the gate," her voice was calm even with her adrenaline spiking. As it always did when John managed to get himself in danger.

\------------------------------------

When Ronon and Teyla walked back through the gate looking grim and followed with one stretcher and none of the team John had accompanied, Elizabeth knew it was going to be a bad day.

When they sat in the conference room and Teyla started speaking very softly while Ronon sat on her other side and tried to look supportive, she very deliberately stiffened herself. Knowing that the blows were going to strike deeply.

They told her that Major Lorne's team, whom the colonel had led to the planet since Lorne was in the infirmary, were all in a building having a meal when Dr. Lindsay was led away by a villager. A few minutes later, the doctor both heard and saw the building the men were in explode. Teyla's voice softened even more as she spoke of finding a burnt body near the edge of the explosion wearing Private Frobisher's tags. Of finding John's dogtags -which she wouldn't let go of after Ronon wordlessly gave them to her- near a trace of white powder, near the heart of the damage. Of finding *all* the men's tags in the midst of terrible fiery destruction.

Elizabeth's fingers jerkily spun the charred, twisted tags she held. Trying, with almost two years of experience, to find the *hint* of hope in the report. The flaw that would allow the possibility that... That... The silence in the room stretched as she held herself still through the waves of agony rising through her. Held herself together. Her eyes were stinging with tears she would not shed here when the gate started dialing again.

She rose mechanically, instinct guiding her to her post. Not even noticing when Ronon and Teyla followed.

She'd never realized how much effort walking could be. Her legs felt weighed down with lead, all the little joints that had to move with every step were sore, if not outright painful. Her heart. Her heart felt like a hot sword was twisting in it. Sharp stabbing pain with every breath. She didn't let herself think about why. Had a protective layer of obliviousness between her mind and the emotions waiting to overwhelm her.

The first few times she'd had to protect herself to keep functioning; those had been hard. Somehow a lifetime of self-control had not been quite as much preparation as she would have thought. Nor the denial she'd started this job out with.

But she'd learned.

Learned to admit to the fear and pain. Learned to breathe through it, shield just enough of it away to *think* through it. To survive to find the path; whether that meant saving him, or merely living on to lead their people alone.

It wouldn't hold for long, that shield, not against the darkness that attacked her now, but it would keep her able to work for the day. And then she would build another. She had a job to do. He would never want her to fail because of him.

\-----------------------------------

Seeing Ladon again... was too much of a reminder of the man who had protected them all for so long, adding another shard to the darkness. As it billowed out against that shield of stubborn non-knowledge in her mind, she could barely hold back from screaming at the man; to order her soldiers after him. But she caught herself, with gritted teeth and fisted hands, held the deathly fury in; glad they weren't sending video, suspecting even her expression would have given away her momentary weakness.

She didn't need J... She winced away from completing the thought.

Even alone, she knew that he was untrustworthy. She didn't *want* to negotiate. Didn't give a bloody *damn* about the Genii. Or anyone else but the people *he*'d died for.

\----------------------------

But McKay's arguments for the ZPM were also sound; and her people must come first. And so, Major Lorne was pulled out of the infirmary with his healing arm so that he could take his place as Atlantis' military commander right away.

And she ordered Ronon and Teyla to find who had killed her people, her voice colder and harder than anyone in the room had ever heard from her. Just this once, she *wanted* to carry a gun herself. Felt no hesitation to going after whoever had done this with deadliest force. Unfair to all the other dead they had losts, but there it was. For an instant, a pair of hazel eyes shined through the darkness in her mind. Deadly and intent, removed from their face by cold black metal. This time, instead of wanting to comfort them, she *was* them.

\-------------------------------

Hours later, Elizabeth watched expressionlessly as Ladon's Genii walked through the gate without a ZPM. She ordered Lorne and his men to carry on with the raid on Ladon's suspected hideout, as planned.

"Yes ma'am. We'll be in touch in about 3 hours, Lorne out."

She watched as the gate shut down and the Genii were escorted to the perimeter to be guarded until she heard from Lorne again. When one of the women passed out, she ordered her taken to the infirmary, wondering faintly what that was about. Trying to make herself care.

Half an hour later, Carson showed up to tell her that their hostages were all dying of radiation but refusing to talk. It was too much to hope that it was a coincidence and Elizabeth leaned her elbows on her desk, massaging her temples as the tension of keeping everything inside increased to headache state.

"Elizabeth..."

She lifted a hand to silence the doctor, knowing he would want her to rest. "We have to wait until Lorne reports in anyway. I'll get word to Teyla about what we're doing. And *then* I'll take a break. I promise."

He nodded and left her to dial the planet where... Where Teyla and Ronon were trying to find out who was responsible for... for... She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought; reminded that Carson was at least partially right. She needed to be alone for a while to rebuild her shield. Her strength.

\-------------------------------

When Evan Lorne woke up from the gassing, it was to his supposedly dead colonel bent over him, "Rise and shine, major. I'd really like to know the details of your rescue plan, right about now."

"Sir?!!"

John's brows rose at the complete shock in the man's tone. The worry that had been spinning through his mind, about Elizabeth, about his missing man, about how long it was taking to be rescued, turned hard. It was never good when your own people were surprised to see you. "So. *No* rescue plan?"

"You... We... We thought you were dead, Sir!"

John's jaw clenched and he felt a cold sweat flow over his skin. He got up abruptly, turning away from the men around him, not seeing how they moved to give him what privacy they could. He knew they'd been here at least 24 hours, and Lorne was completely shocked at his being alive. '*We* thought'. Which meant Elizabeth thought...

Hurting, guilty fury overran him and he punched the chainlink wall before gripping it tightly with both hands and leaning on it for a minute. Damn it! To be stuck in this weak, unguarded bloody prison while...

He finally stepped away from it, hands fisted, closing his eyes and trying to get control of himself. Bastards. Bastards for hurting her. And him along with them. Bastards for hurting her.

He never meant to make her worry. Hated seeing the anguish in her eyes when he was in trouble. Hated knowing it was there when he was stuck on some planet, or moon, or ship and couldn't even see, couldn't give her so much as a reassuring grin. And now she thought he was dead. He knew what that would do... *had done* to him. He needed to get home.

\------------------------------

It took more than an hour to walk back to the gate after Ronon and Teyla convinced Ladon that his sister could be saved. All he had to do was take the soldiers of Atlantis out with him rather than blow them up with Cowen and his people.

If he could have come up with a reason, John would have run, or at least jogged, but there was no real rush. Atlantis wasn't in danger and wasn't going to do anything different just because they were a little longer getting back at this point... So he stayed quiet, forcing himself to let Ronon set the pace. Trying to convince himself that Elizabeth would deal with losing him just fine. Would be at her post and nothing more than sad; maybe a little angry.

But after 3 years, there were too many memories between them for him to really believe that. She *would* be at her post, that much he did believe. But she would be hurting and... damn it, he'd passed Ronon again.

\-------------------------------

When he was finally through the gate, his eyes started scoping for Elizabeth without stopping to respond to any of the shocked welcomes. Worry spiked when he didn't see her anywhere. "Rodney!" he shouted at the man gaping at him from Elizabeth's lookout, "Whe..." he stopped himself at the last second, swearing as he stalked away from the welcoming committee, this time using his earpiece, "Rodney! Where's Elizabeth?!"

"What? Oh! Carson made her go get some rest a couple of hours ago. Are you"

"Not now Rodney, Teyla can give you a rundown. Debrief can wait 'till tomorrow."

Rodney's frowned in confusion for a second, but then he caught a glance of the man's face among the crowd. The stark worry there made him remember *why* Elizabeth had needed rest. Oh. Yeah.

\------------------------------

John resisted the urge to call Elizabeth, not sure how she would react and wary of upsetting her if he wasn't there to deal with the damage.

At least now he could *run*.

He knocked on her quarters' door and then anxiously got Atlantis to open it when there was no answer. The empty room made him freeze in momentary panic before he made himself think; put himself in her shoes... where would he...

He spun around and took off again.

\--------------------------------

Leaving Rodney to watch Atlantis and contact her when Lorne called in, Elizabeth walked to her quarters. After the first few sympathetic glances she caught, she avoided paying anyone any attention, hurrying as much as she could, feeling the pain cramping her breathing more with every step. She wasn't thinking; was very deliberately NOT thinking. Held her face in its mask and spared no attention for anything else, trusting her feet to lead her home.

When the door she ended up facing wasn't hers, the first shudder shook her and she accepted her subconscious' demand. Waved the door open, praying Atlantis would let her in his quarters. The moment she was in the dark room, she wrapped her arms around herself, carefully releasing the control over her features and her emotions.

It was disorienting; when she smelled John this strongly, she was usually *safe*. So safe... She stumbled forward, feeling the grief overtake her completely; her arms no comfort at all. Forcibly keeping her eyes open and her breath even, she was unaware of when she sat down on the floor, hard.

Staring forward, making herself concentrate on everything she had to be doing. Personnel evaluations, food requisitions. The search for *John*'s killers. John! Letting the pain flow through her, acknowledging it without focusing on how badly her heart hurt, how cold and sick and broken her whole body felt.

In amongst making herself think of what she *had* to do, she started to think of -accept- what death, his death, really meant. That she would never see him again. He would never stroll into her office to tease her, reassure her, vent to her. Never hang at her shoulder pestering her for something. Never smirk, grin or give her that silent smile. She would never hear his voice; no more rushed anger, or whispering softness, or that jerky stutter when she managed to throw him. She would never feel that rare, hesitant touch.

The warm, clean smell of leather, metal and man, the man she *loved*, damn them all, would fade even from here; would never again serve to remind her of the support standing behind or beside her when the world attacked. Sweaty, dirty, exhausted John would never again be rescued. She would never again fall asleep with her head on his hospital pillow, faded pine shampoo, coppery blood and antiseptic infirmary leading her to troubled rest.

Oh god. She had to dig her nails in her palms to control a runaway shudder, straining to keep breathing silently through the pain. To keep focusing on what would have to be done through the barren loneliness she could already feel lurking behind the grief.

No one to talk her through grief. Or sorrow, or guilt, or worry.

Truly alone now. To face the Genii, the wraith, the IOA. To face every day of the future.

She was years past pretending to herself that he was no more than a friend. That she would mourn and then continue her life as she had before they met.

If she had only figured out, in all that time, how she *would* bear the long years.

\--------------------------------

John waved the door to his room open, still trying to tell himself she would be fine, that he would find her quietly packing up his things.

At first he thought the room was empty but then his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he heard the uneven breaths from next to his bed.

"Shit," he whispered, hurrying forward, using the pale light from the small window rather than risk startling her. When she didn't react, he slowed, coming to a crouch a few inches in front of the bent knees her arms were wrapped around. He could see now the tears tracking down her cheeks. Tried to meet her eyes. But she looked right through him, her breathing disturbed but controlled. Too controlled. "Elizabeth," he kept his voice soft, seeing her shudder and hug herself tighter, but otherwise ignore him. "Elizabeth." This time she reacted, actually focused on him jerkily, eyes widening.

"John?" her voice was choked, disbelieving.

He went down on his knees to be steadier, slowly brought his hands to rest on her ankles. However much he wanted, right now, to pull her into a tight hug... he didn't want to make it any harder to deal with his sudden return. Instead he murmured steadily, "It's OK. I'm home. It was a setup. I wasn't in that explosion. I'm ok. It's alright Elizabeth. You're ok."

Her hands had risen slowly as he spoke, finally hesitating less than an inch from touching his face. He smiled reassuringly, taking the initiative to bend his head until her hand cupped his jaw. "Elizabeth," he whispered again, keeping his hands where they were and waiting for her next cue.

She'd been so lost in her own mind, thinking of him... he was *dead*. She was imagining this... even the touch to her legs... but it was a comfort even to *see* him and if she touched him... then he would disappear. But when he leaned into her, his skin was real and warm. When she felt his jaw move, Elizabeth finally accepted the reality.

"John!" The sudden complete joy made everything, every other thought utterly disappear. She literally threw herself at him, arms probably strangling him. Her eyes burned but she was laughing, choking back sobs but laughing. Hearing his voice soothing her, his hands stroking her. Holding her.

Metal; man. Stiff vest and soft voice. Support. And love. LIFE!

She was warm again but the waves of relief still left it hard to breathe, the grief still too recent for her body to recover and stop aching.

John's eyes were closed as he fought to keep his touch no more than friendly. She felt so shaky and cold, and sounded lost, adrift. His instincts cried to press his lips to her skin, remind them both that they were alive and together. But he made himself just hold her, feeling her grief as his own. Knowing, *knowing* that sooner or later one of them would be here again. Holding on to her while he could.

The emotions finally started to let up and Elizabeth was able to find the control that had been spun out of her hands. She released her stranglehold on John; caught a few more deep breath -John, safety- with her forehead on his shoulder to steal herself for whatever emotions might rise when she looked at him again. Aware that he'd gone still when she changed her grip. That he hadn't released her. That she still felt too much. Still shivered with loss. With un-looked-for relief.

He met her gaze when she lifted her head; watching, hoping she was going to be alright. Trying to see what she needed from him. Lips tightening with worry at the lost edge in her eyes. Even more than a year later, he remembered that feeling. And he hadn't had to hide his pain from a city-full of subordinates...

"What are we doing to ourselves, John?"

"Surviving," he answered equally quietly.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this." He was scared by how discouraged, broken she sounded; ready to give up. He'd never allowed himself to imagine Atlantis without Elizabeth... couldn't let himself be the reason for it.

His voice was soft but firm, "Yes, you can. You are the strongest person I've ever known Elizabeth," he frowned, sharply regretting his ever-present lack of ability with words, fearing he would never make her see, make her feel safe and herself again, but she interrupted him.

"I don't want to be strong. I," she hesitated, knowing she had a tendency to overreact when she was so relieved. Wondering if *he* preferred to keep the status quo... But he radiated support. Not distance; support. 'I'm here, whatever you need me to be, I'm here'.

Her breathing stuttered as she chose the fire. She couldn't stay in the pan any longer, was too aware of the drop waiting to swallow her. Nothing would make the fear and nightmares less... but if she could have... could hold onto him, feel him hold on to her. She could have at least *some* moments of peace. And so could he. He was too alone; she had always hated that he had to face the demons and the pain alone. As alone as she was.

She reached out, touching the corner of his eyes, reassured by the affection there, gently closing his unresisting lids, then raising herself on her knees to face him, her hands sliding into his hair -pine, sweat; John-, holding his head.

And *kissing* him. Finally. Feeling his startled breath. Then his arms wrap around her, waist and nape. And pull her tight -safe-, deepening the kiss himself. Life. Heat. Desire. Faintly familiar, soft lips. Demanding possession she'd never felt, invasion that left her weak and shivery; returning the favour and feeling him shudder...

When she finally pulled away to breathe, they stared at each other. "I don't want to be strong alone anymore," her *voice* was stronger now, closer to what it usually was. She kept it even to leave him the choice. Her decision did not have to be his...

But he never hesitated, made her squeak in shock when his hands were suddenly behind her knees and shoulders, lifting her as he rose. Her arms grabbed onto his neck, laughing at the oddly thrilling move. Knowing that was relief behind the smirk on his face as he took the step to his bed and laid a knee on it before lowering her. "I take it you'd like to change the 'alone' part rather than the strong, colonel?"

His lower body came to rest on hers, the weight of his shoulders on his arms. "Without question, doctor," The humour drained out, a shaft of brighter light across her face reminding him that this had already been an emotional day, "Losing you was never a viable option." He leaned over to kiss a stray tear away from the corner of her eye, "I'll always fight to get back to you, I swear." He grinned weakly, "I'll even try to ascend if it comes to that, on the off chance I can pull a Jackson and get back. Hopefully in your bed rather than your office..."

Elizabeth took a breath, chasing the pain away for the moment, and gave him a fierce frown, gripping his shoulders and shaking as hard as she could; if he wanted strength... "See that you do. You let someone kill you and *I*'m going to find a way to ascend just so I can whup your far too cute butt!"

Letting her move him while keeping his weight from falling on her, he was suddenly laughing, reassured that his Elizabeth was going to be fine; and then some. "Cute? Why Dr. Weir, I never knew!" 


End file.
